Paper Cranes HotchReid
by ImogenSapphire
Summary: When Hotch goes into a coma, Reid is devestated, will Reid manage or not? Can be Hotch/Reid if you want it, if not just read it as a Reid - centric!
1. Chapter 1 Paper Cranes

Paper Cranes

'It's not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.' - _Epictetus_

5782… That's how many paper cranes he'd folded since 21st October 2008.

His fingers had already grown accustomed to the monotonous folding… 'Triangle, triangle, open up, rectangle, fold side, fold side…' He bet that he could find 10 serial killers and be folding paper cranes all the way through it.

He would fold anything, from the file paper which he received on the case, or the scrap paper on his desk, the patient lists… his hands seemed to move on their own accord.

People said that if you fold 1000 paper cranes you get a wish, and the wish should come true. He was already at 5790… and every time he made 1000 he would make the same wish, it just hadn't come true yet – or so he tried to convince himself.

-----

"Reid, seatbelt."

"But we're Federal Agents, we don't need to wear seatbelts, plus did you know how many road accidents there are a year? There are about 42,884 deaths in the United States alone! And in that 55% of those deaths said to have been caused due to the driver or passengers not wearing a seatbelt!"

"Reid…" The dark eyes stared into his lighter ones, he knew he'd lost.

"Okay, okay, okay. Stop glaring." Reid sighed and pulled the seatbelt across his chest and into the buckle. "You should wear yours too."

"I'm a Supervisory Special Agent -Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, I don't need one."

Reid pursed his lips, crossing his arms and fiddling with the button and the end of his shirt whilst Hotch started up the engine. He hated it when he didn't get his way, perhaps that was why he was called the baby of the group… Well, other than the reasons of being younger than everyone else and all that stuff…

"But Hotch, it's not fair…" Reid started only to be cut off at mid- sentence, by a light kiss on the forehead.

"No, you're not telling me what is fair and not fair." Hotch relaxed as they went onto the highway.

The phone rang.

"Aaron Hotchner." Reid saw the expression on Hotch's face change drastically. "Yea, sure. We'll be there in fifteen minutes. We've got our bags; tell the team we're leaving in thirty." He paused. "Uh huh. Yea, sure. Mm… Brief the team first; you can brief us on the plane…"

-----

They never got there; the wheels never went up in thirty. They never went to investigate the case in Minnesota involving the killings of young girls with two pigtails. Instead, they ended up in the Hospital sitting next to their boss in a coma and a distraught Dr. Reid with minor injuries.

-----

At first, everyone from the team would come down every day to see their boss in a coma, speak to the un-responding man of whatever had happened that day or repeat events of yesterday with more detail.

Soon enough, the daily visits became once every other day. Then become once every four days… five days. Once a week… Once every fortnight…

Soon enough Hotch was replaced Rossi and Gideon came back 'just to stand in as a team member until Hotch got back.' He had said, but everyone knew that even if Hotch got better, the chances of him coming back to work in the bureau were slim.

Reid would still go to the Hospital every day, the same way in which he wrote a letter to his mother every day. He'd talk to Hotch about every detail of his day, how the leaves had turned orange… Anything.

-----

There were times he'd sit in silence and watch the rise and fall of his boss/ secret lover's chest. It didn't really qualify for 'lover' status quite yet. They hadn't been together for anymore than 2 weeks, still sorting out how everything worked, sorting out their differences.

Reid would still blush at how Hotch would baby him whenever he went over, cooking food, reading, watching TV… Always keeping an eye out for him… That was when Reid finally found out how it would have been like to be a child in the average family.

-----

When Hotch first went out of it, Reid hadn't been as devastated as he was now. When Hotch first went into a coma, doctors said that he'd most likely snap out of it within half a year to a two years, but if Hotch didn't then he'd most likely never wake up again.

It was not until Reid realized that no matter how hard he tried his fingers could never quite mimic Hotch's calloused and rough ones. When Reid began to try harder, he learnt that you can't surprise yourself with your own fingers. When he found that he found that after time, unlike the texts that he read, the feelings and the memories would slowly begin to fade, until he couldn't remember the details of how Hotch would hold him when he slept. It was when he began to find that he couldn't remember to perfectly the way in which Hotch said 'I love you'. Every time he tried to recall the voice, the sound seemed less real, less crisp… Until the voice became so blurred that it no longer sounded special.

That was when Reid broke down in his apartment; tears blurred his vision until he could barely see where his was going. It was then that Reid pulled the drugs from the storeroom along with the worn leather belt and the syringes. He knew he needed the high.

-----

6000…

"I wish that Hotch comes back." He whispered.


	2. Chapter 2 Paper Boats

Paper Boats

His hands tired, tired of folding paper cranes. After folding 10,000, Hotch was still asleep.

His mind bored, bored of staring at the unmoving features of his boss. Life never really did work out did it?

His fingers bruised, bruised from rubbing down the folded paper. He hated to sight of origami now.

Still he folded, fed up of pretty little paper cranes, he folded pretty little boats. Pretty little boats with pretty little notes in them, just like those he used to write when he was little, things like 'Bring Daddy home.' or 'Stop Mummy from crying.'

-

It'd been half a year, a half damn year. Hotch was still sleeping, still damn sleeping. The team now consisted of: SSA Jason Gideon, SSA David Rossi, SSA Derek Morgan, Agent Emily Prentiss, Liaison Jenifer Jareau and Doctor Reid.

He was always curious why he was last on the list, perhaps it was that he was low in rank or that he was simply special that was why he was mentioned last. Reid smiled to himself with the irony of him being special, it was almost enough to send him into a fit of giggles.

Now, only he went to see Hotch every day. Everyone else went every fortnight or whenever they felt like a free hospital meal – which was rare since hospital meals tasted unarguably bland.

He went so often that the receptionist no longer asked him which ward he was going to, or why he was there. He went there so often that he knew every nurses' name and age. He went there so often that the doctors knew his name, age, work and his genius ways. He went there so often that the team thought that he was strangling himself internally.

That was how he ended up in a desk job; yes, he still worked with the team, flew from state to state the with the team on the jet, but he was always inside the police station, mapping, reading the letters… It was an unspoken rule but, Spencer Reid was never allowed on the field, because everyone he was on the verge of a breakdown – a major depressive episode. He laughed bitterly despite himself.

Morgan asked the same question every time they flew back "Kid, you wanna talk?" He'd respond with the same answer "What is there to talk about?" Sometimes this would lead to a yelling contest between them, both of them trading insults until Rossi or Gideon had to physically pull them apart or it would end with a game of cards in which both of them made the most careless mistakes, their minds elsewhere. Sometimes they'd glare and whisper hurtful comments until Reid would slap Morgan across the face. Sometimes, Reid would curl up and he'd shake with broken sobs slapping and cursing at anyone who got within his two feet of personal space. Sometimes, he'd sit and stare with his blank eyes, going through every single book he read through his head, trying to loose himself there.

When Gideon had tried to get him to have a week of rest, Reid came back to the office everyday to fill and file all the reports supposed to be done by the rest of the team. By the time the team got back, Reid was long gone - at the hospital. Talking to Hotch – again. Yes, he was told off for this, he'd respond in a sullen tone "But, Gideon I have nothing better to do." Gideon couldn't argue against this, it always seemed like Reid didn't have a life out of the office, even if he did he never spoke about it.

Without Hotch, Reid stuck with the drugs. The little containers that he asked the doctors for, saying that it was for some research he was doing in secret, to find some new formula. The doctors always looked at him funny when he asked for dilaudid; but never refused him when he lifted up his FBI badge.

At home, Hotch's belt, an injection needle was all that kept him company. Hotch's scent on the belt had faded and melded with Reid's... The same way Hotch was disappearing. The syringe just half-full [6 mg was more than enough], find the vein; push the sharp tip in – Heaven. The way the whole room blurred just enough for him to think that he was dying, how everything that he could touch seemed to dissolved underneath his touch. How everything turned black and white, only right and wrong, no gray spaces.

When he woke up, it would always hurt more. The way everything had its colour back, the grays had all come back – gray walls, gray fridge, gray microwave, gray table top, grey carpet, grey sofa… He much he hated that colour. Then the worse part would come, when he'd run into the bathroom and attempt to throw up but all that he could throw up was water and stomach acid, it'd sting his throat and leave a sour aftertaste.

"It makes it all better." The voice in his head whispered, "You better? My dad is a bastard, here."

"Yea, it is better. But it hurts." He'd reply

"Reid don't do this to yourself, your better than this." Hotch…

"Who are you to say that, you left me!" He lifted his arms and hit the air the force pulling hard on his shoulder. "You…" He hated the salty water that spilled from his eyes and down his face.

"Reid… Don't" Hotch…

"You feeling better?" Tobias…

"Reid please, you're killing yourself." I know Hotch…

"It always helps." I don't want it!

"Think about the things to be happy about." There's nothing to be happy about…

"My dad is a bastard." I know Tobias, I know.

"STOP!" He heard his own voice mix with the rest of voices, he was going to die – at least that was what he wished would happen to him. "Save me."

-

So now he would fold pretty and colourful little paper boats, with pretty and childish little notes.

'Hotch wake up.' 'Hotch save me.' 'Hotch I think I'm going to die.' 'Hotch I hate you.' 'Hotch come back.' 'Hotch I'm sorry.' 'Hotch, why couldn't we be together for longer?' 'Hotch it hurts.' 'Hotch I don't want it anymore.'

He'd fold them up into pretty and colourful little paper boats and throw them over the side of the boat, hoping that at least one would reach Hotch in his dreams… Then maybe he'd wake up, maybe Reid would have to die, maybe Reid would wake up and find that he'd been having the worse nightmare, maybe he wouldn't have to go to Alaska and stay in New York…

"HOTCH SAVE ME."

***

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed on the previous chapter! *grins* I'm still thinking of how to resolve this without making it seem to cliché for words… anyone got any ideas?


	3. Chapter 3 Paper Stars

Paper Stars

Reid was bored of the little boats… the little boats that would float monotonously on the water in his bathtub or sink.

Reid was bored of the simple creases that created those boats.

Reid's fingers had become rough from the continuous pressing of the folds.

Reid began to wonder if Hotch would notice – apparently not.

Reid still folded though, but now he would fold good luck stars.

-

He was bored, bored of life, bored of living, bored of the daily routine. Life had become dimmer and dimmer nowadays, there was little excitement install for each day… it was just the same damn routine… a routine that he had become so accustomed to that he was beginning to wonder what would happen if he lost his job.

Reid was back in Quantico after having a half month cooling off period in Alaska [which caused him major boredom and he's quite sure that he gained about fifty pounds]. When he came back he was greeted with a big party, Morgan forcing the stupid hat onto his head, JJ made him a cheese cake which had the same trick candles on it. No matter how depressed Reid had been, the party certainly did make him feel a lot better. Not much though, he could still be the small heart-stab at the back of his chest. Gideon made it a big deal and gave Reid the whole collection of Shakespeare's work – first edition, Reid had always wanted to read it, he forced a wry grin onto his face and gave Gideon a hug. Rossi gave him a nice collection of stamps, which he had no idea what to do with because he wasn't the one who collected stamps, Hotch was the one who collected them, Hotch had asked Reid to get them from Rossi for him because he really didn't like asking Rossi for anything. Now Rossi assumed that he was the one who collected them. Still Reid gave a grin, pretended to put them carefully into his sling bag, and told Rossi how much he would treasure them.

Reid was really only looking forward to one thing – going to the hospital. He hadn't seen Hotch in… fifteen days, four hours and forty two minutes, that was more than enough for him. Still he knew that his boss would be lying there motionless and well… just lying there, the same way he had been for the last… seven months, four days, six hours and fifteen minutes... Reid knew, knew that Hotch wouldn't have moved at all not the slightest. Reid gave himself a bitter grin, it was so funny, it sounded like he was autistic now… doesn't that just make the whole world better?

By now, Reid had run out of dilaudid, this is the other reason why he wanted to make the trip to the hospital; he knew better than anyone else that what he was doing was sending him down a dark spiral. But it didn't make a difference, no matter what way you looked at it, life was a dark spiral… a dark spiral that no one alive knew where it ended. Reid was simply curious how long this dark spiral was… he had long ago decided that the only way he was going to find out how long this spiral was, was to go down the spiral himself.

-

He sat next to Hotch at the hospital, the nurses smiled and asked about where he had been for the past half month. Some nurses went as far and talking about how they were scared that he had died in his line of work and all that stuff. Reid simply had said that he had some business to attend to and during this time he was unable to visit Hotch – it was basically the truth anyway.

-

Reid had learnt about paper stars when he was a lot younger. On his mother's good days, he would sit next to her and they would fold paper stars, his mother told him that you are to write a wish inside the star paper, fold it and stored it inside a glass jar that way the faeries will come and collect your wish. She had said that the more times he wrote the wish the more likely it was to come true because sometimes faeries missing stars out by accident.

He was beginning to wonder if it was true, there were now seven bottles of paper stars all with the same wish and apparently the wish still hadn't come true. He was still wishing the same thing for a whole half year; it was boring to keep making the same wish.

"Spencer, have faith."

His mother always said those words; it would come up almost every day… It was as if a small part of her would always be embedded inside him, that little voice in his head. The voice that currently was bugging him so much he began to wish it didn't exist.

-

Well at least he still had the dilaudid, which the doctors had once again given to him without question. The joys that come with being an FBI agent, free drugs and as long as you can act, no one is really going to suspect you of drug abusing. The stereotype that the police, FBI and CIA never succumbed to such temptation was still active, and Reid had to admit that it was mostly true, just not on his part.

The old belt had already snapped so Reid had made a substitute of a thick rope which could tie equally tightly so they basically were the same… just that there was no Hotch scent on the rope… which made the experience less exciting in a way…

It had started with 6 mg… but slowly it had become 6.5 then 7 then 7.5 and now 8. He took 8 mg doses every time that was on third more than what he had began with, to be honest it made no difference to him, dilaudid was dilaudid and that was all that there was to it.

-

Reid sat there staring at the unmoving features again, this game that he was playing with himself was really boring. The memories were too far away to be remembered clearly, all that came to mind when the name 'Hotch' was mentioned was this pale, lifeless body lying on the hospital bed and not the one that had once led them and taught them… It just wasn't fair… why?

"Don't be a child Spencer, only children ask why. Think why but don't ask it."

Why were these words continuously coming to mind? Was it really the fact that he was going mad? Or was it simply because he hadn't told his mother about what he really had been feeling? What was it? What was the trigger?

Reid gave a barking laugh, startling the nurses outside who poked their head in to make sure nothing was wrong.

He was profiling himself, PROFILING himself, oh what dark humor.

-

That was it, he had folded ten glass jars of paper stars and he was a sure as sure could get that it wasn't making a single bit of difference. He placed the jars neatly in a row inside Hotch's room, smiling with a triumphant grin, a triumphant evil grin he proclaimed to no one in particular.

"See, I folded ten frickin' jars of paper stars and you know what? It doesn't work, the whole world should know about this so that no one else wastes their life doing stupid things like this!"

Reid could feel his body shaking with rage, sadness and emptiness. This was horrid, horrid, horrid. Hotch was not coming back and Reid knew better than anyone else that he wasn't.

His hands swept all of the glass bottles onto the floor and they smashed with an earsplitting crash.

"You happy now? You see my wish now? You see it? You see it?"

Reid collapsed onto the floor.

-

Hotch blinked.

***

A/N: Hope this is a rational ending, its kinda really random but I hope it works!


End file.
